A Test Maybe?
by Jack221Tardis
Summary: Sherlock is kidnapped by a mysterious man and John is determined to rescue him, but there's something a little odd about it.
1. Chapter 1

"We need to talk John. SH"

John was walking as he felt his phone vibrate, he knew who was sending him a text, but he didn't felt like reading it.

- ¿Oh what? ¿Am I allowed to go back now?

John sighed, and continued to walk down the street, distracted by the lights and cold London moist air, feeling it surfing across his neck, making a trembling chill run all the way down his spine.

"Now John. SH"

Again it vibrated and again he decided to ignore it, by now he was sitting in a bench in the park, stretching his legs, letting all of his body rest as like he was the only person there. He felt as he would soon fall asleep and probably would had done it if the phone hasn't vibrated again, once, twice and some five more.

- ¡For Christ sake Sherlock! ¿What do you want?

He screamed while angrily taking the phone out of his pocket and checked the now 12 messages all from the person he was trying to forget at the moment. A few people walking look at the scenario, but decided to not to even say something about it to their companions.

He started reading them, read the first one, the second one, etc. He stopped at the fifth.

- ¿What? Confused he whispered.

"You should have come, when he told you so. TH"

"He's really calm when he's sleeping or should I say, unconscious. TH"

"It's quite the pretty flat you've got here. TH"

"I'm in the mood for a game. ¿What do you say? TH"

"Hide and Seek sounds good. TH"

"Count to a hundred. TH"

"The prize, the delightful Sherlock Holmes. TH"

He finished reading the first text and jumped as fast as he could onto a taxi on his way to 221B Baker Street. His read the rest of them, feeling a knot in his stomach, anxious to get home to Sherlock, hoping it was all a sick joke.

Although deep inside him he knew he wasn't there. He ran up the stairs, ignoring Mrs. Hudson, opening the door, turning his eyes to the place he was sure Sherlock was, where he should be.

Instead he found the place all destroyed, as if a tornado just flew a few moments ago. His heart stopped for a bit, he felt the sudden need to run and search for him but he came across Mrs. Hudson, who stopped him.

She was holding a piece of paper, John didn't said a word and took it and saw a picture falling, he grab it in the air, will the reflex of a soldier.

- Sherlock… He whispered.

- Oh dear, I couldn't stop him from taking him. Mrs. Hudson started explaining

But he wasn't paying attention to her, excuses, nothing could care less. He look at the picture, it was one of Sherlock, unconscious with a clock beside him. John look at the hour and check his watch, the picture was taken no more than 5 minutes ago.

He still wanted to run as fast as he could, with the slight hope he might still catch the bastard who took Sherlock, but he knew it was useless.

His phone rang, he didn't hesitate to answer.

- ¿Hello?

- You didn't count to a hundred. You got here pretty fast.

John had to control himself not throwing his phone at the floor or crushing it with his hands, he took a deep breath and trying his best not to make his voice shiver, he said.

- ¿What do you want? ¿Where is Sherlock? Please, don't hurt him.

He didn't wanted to sound desperate, but as soon as he said the first question, he couldn't control himself.

- -Please, do relax, I won't hurt him, I believe I did told you what I wanted.

John sighed loudly. - ¿How do we do this?

-That's the spirit. It's not that complicated Doctor. It's Hide and Seek. I hide, you seek. Easy as that, if you find me, you get Sherlock back. If you take too long, well I might just have a bit of fun with him.

That last part, John's body got tense all of a sudden. He growled.

- ¿So what am I supposed to do? ¿Search all London for you?

- -Of course not. Anyway that would be too boring. I took my time to set this up, Your treasure map is the paper I left with the picture. I'm sure you'll figure it out.

John was sitting aside Mrs. Hudson listening to this "TH" trying to think in who might be.

- -Wait. John quickly said.

- ¿How will I know Sherlock is alright?

- -Oh that. I'll send you a text with a picture of him, with the clock, like the picture you have in your hand.

TH hung up.


	2. Chapter 2

"You got here too fast" "Like the picture you have in your hand" The bastard was still there or at least he was in a safe distance, that allow him to observe every single move John took.

- ¿Did he hurt you in any way Mrs. Hudson? John asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

- Oh no dear. Actually he was quite kind to me. I do believe I have seen him before, but I just can't remember where.

John reacted to the last part. -¿Seen him before?

Mrs. Hudson nodded. If she has seen him, then so has he, the voice didn't sound familiar. ¿Did it?

He was more than confused at the moment, so he decided to go upstairs, to think everything through. He said to Mrs. Hudson he didn't want to be disturbed, fortunately Mrs. Hudson didn't argue at all.

He meditated whether to call Mycroft or Lestrade.

Mycrotf will found out sooner or later. Lestrade would search after Sherlock but John surely knew it would take too long.

Finally he decided he wanted to get him alone. Not like some source of hero or like his duty as a former soldier, he wanted to get him because he couldn't stand the thought of someone else touching him and beside he didn't wanted Mycroft or Lestrade in the way when he kicked TH ass.

He looked at the piece of paper in his hand, he had left the picture somewhere in the floor, in his way in.

The paper contained numbers, some source of code, a date maybe. He didn't know. For a second he thought Sherlock could figure this out, he was about to call his name, when he remembered the victim this time was the detective himself.

He sat in his couch, let out a loud sigh and remembered why he had left Sherlock in the flat all alone.

- John we need to talk.

John made a sound, indicating he was listening, but continued reading the newspaper. Sherlock repeated.

- ¡John we need to talk!

- I'm listening Sherlock.

- No you're not.

Sherlock said as he pulled the newspaper out of John's hands. John pulled back into his seat.

- ¿What the hell Sherlock? I said I was listening.

Sherlock frowned and stare at John for quite the time, long enough for John to feel uncomfortable.

- ¿Sherlock? John said, trying to get Sherlock out of the trance he appeared to be.

- I need you to go for a while. Sherlock said now staring at the window.

- ¿When? ¿For how long? John was really confused.

- Now, would be preferable and regarding the "how long" part. I'll text when you're needed.

John was above confused, he was shocked. He didn't say a word, he only kept moving his lips trying to form the right question, one that Sherlock would answer without being sarcastic and actually telling the truth, but the only thing that came out was a simple "¿Why?" Sherlock didn't stop staring at the window.

- You don't need to know that John. It's best that you keep it that way.

John didn't know why he got so angry. He got up kicking the chair, grabbing his coat with such strength, he maid the whole floor shake.

- Oh please, do let me know, when the great Sherlock Holmes requires my assistance in any way. As always everyone lives to serve that great mind. John yelled as he walked down the stairs.

¿Why did he get so mad? He rested his forehead in his hands, regretting.

His body was numb, he couldn't think. He opened his laptop, trying to clear his head. Somehow he felt Sherlock wasn't in any danger but again, thinking that someone el se could touch him in ways he only fantasized made his head want to explode.

He entered his blog, seeing the pictures of Sherlock in his entries. They had begun to get quite popular. He read the comments in one of Sherlock pictures. Girls saying how attractive he is, John couldn't agree more. He smiled a bit, imagining the reaction of Sherlock to such comments.

His eyes widened a bit, a comment he haven't read, left just this day.

"The wonderful Sherlock Holmes, though I wonder. What if Sherlock was away and his blogger had to solve a case. ¿Could he really do it? TH"

"TH" John closed his eyes, clapping his hands to his face, opening his eyes suddenly.

- ¡Mrs. Hudson! ¿What happened after I left?

Mrs. Hudson ran upstairs, catching her breath.

- Oh my. Well, you left and Sherlock peek out the door as he was trying to talk to you, but instead he closed the door and said. "I'll have a visitor Mrs. Hudson. ¿Would you be kind enough to send him upstairs?" I said "I'm not your doorman dear, but just this once" I waited for his visitor. He was a young man, blue eyes I think kinda green, curl hair, long hands, beautiful cheek bones.

John was beginning to get bored, he was complementing the bastard who took Sherlock, she was practically in love.

- He was wearing a really gorgeous suit. Very kind as I said before, he went upstairs alone and I could see Sherlock opening the door. I think they knew each other, because they saluted in a very particular way. I've never seen Sherlock so… social.

Finally Mrs. Hudson stopped, John sighed in relief. He thanked Mrs. Hudson and return to the flat, to his laptop, he was wide awaken by now.

He unfolded the paper again, and something just clicked. He saw the first numbers, he look at the screen of the laptop, back to the paper, back to the screen and finally understand.

- ¡Date! ¡An entry date!


	3. Chapter 3

John thought was interrupted by the vibrating cell phone on top of a bunch of Sherlock's papers. He took it and read the new message knowing who it was from.

"You're going in the right way, but you're taking too much time. Sherlock is getting unsettled. TH"

As promised a picture of Sherlock was send as well. Tie up to a chair, looking annoyed more than scared, like a normal person would, but he never was a normal person right?

Again the thought of TH being near enough to see everything he did. "You're going in the right way" He was surely seeing him, but ¿How?

As an experiment, John said in a not too loud tone.

- When I get the chance, I won't hesitate to shoot you.

A few seconds pass, and the phone vibrated once again.

"Oh, I know you won't John. TH"

He wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was watching him. He eyes moved everywhere, watching every single corner of the flat. ¿Cameras? ¿A bug? He shut his eyes; there was not time to worry about that. He let his mind returned to the place it was before the text.

An entry date, ¿Could it be that easy? TH confirmed it, but what if he was tricking him.

He looked at the numbers, this time seeing them like a date. A date he remembered all too well.

A Study in Pink, the first case he worked with Sherlock. He read everything all over again, ¿What was he supposed to find? He read it all over again and again and once again, he was about to throw the laptop out the window.

He controlled himself, took a long deep breath and decided to look in the comments.

- Oh, of course.

A new comment added shortly after the TH last text.

"I always like to go to where the famous Sherlock Holmes caught the killers. Helps my inspiration. TH"

Ok, that was a bit obvious. John didn't hesitated, he grab his phone and jacket and ran downstairs, almost flying out the door. He called a cab, going to that college where that cab driver had taken Sherlock that night.

He looked around; his paranoia was taking over him. He knew Sherlock wasn't there, that would be too easy, but ¿was TH there?

Now he had to choose, the first time he entered the left building, but Sherlock was in the right building. After a two second hesitation, he went into the right building, after all TH said, "where Sherlock Holmes caught the killers"

A new text arrived as he entered the building.

"You know for a man who doesn't know the earth revolves around the Sun, he really does take good care of his skin. It's so soft and tender. Oh! and almost no chest hair. TH"

A shout of pain, followed by a shout of anger echoed the whole entrance of the building.

- I'm really going to shoot him.

He had just fallen, hitting the ground quite loudly. Not really because of the text itself but because of the picture. Just a picture of a chest wearing a particular purple shirt, a shirt that john knew all too well.

He was really putting his ability of self-control to the test. He got up, cleaning his pants and stepping really hard onto the floor he made his way to the library. He wasn't in the mood for games and there he was playing along. All for Sherlock's sake.

He looked around, nothing seemed out of place, except for a couple of boxes in the table, he got closer to them and before even touching them he looked up, to the window he once shot.

The memories of the moment when he saw Sherlock across the window, chatting with the cab driver, flowed back like a stream of emotions. It felt like it just happened yesterday. He never hesitated; pulling that trigger was one of the easiest and clearest decisions he took since his return from Afghanistan.

- Focus John.

Whispering to himself, he closed his eyes, opening them in the direction of the two boxes in front of him. He took a closer look at them; they were safety boxes, not exactly closed, just in need to turn the handle to be opened.

- Damn.

That wasn't right, in small letters a "J" and a "M" were written one in each box. ¿Could it be Moriarty? But that wasn't his voice on the phone nor his initials on the texts.

¿What was he supposed to do? He was about to pull the handle in one box until his phone rang.

- I wouldn't do that if I were you. Bombs are not something to leave at a random choice.

John froze, he mumbled.

- ¿What do you mean?

- Pick one box! This should be fun.

- ¿How the hell do you expect to know?

- ¿What occurs once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in an hour? Make your choice.

John didn't have time to say something when TH hang up.

¿What the hell did he mean by that? A bloody riddle. That was the last thing John needed. He could hardly concentrate on not destroying everything in his way and now he had to solve a riddle.

- Think John, think!

He was too stressed out. He placed his forehead rest on his palms. Sherlock images appearing every time he blinked, so he decided to leave his eyes closed.

The times that Sherlock smiled. When his face got all light up when he found an entertaining case. When he showed emotions that only he John Watson, could see.

He suddenly widened his eyes and screamed.

- M! The answer is M.

He was about to open the security box with the letter M, but he stopped. M was the answer to the riddle but what it there was a trick or something?


	4. Chapter 4

So far TH hasn't even try lying to him. So as he took a long deep breath, he held the handle of the security box and turned it slowly to finally pull and open it.

He coughed once he opened it; he never let that long deep breath out. Regaining his breath, he noticed nothing had happened. He sighed in relief. He looked inside; a small flash drive was inside it had written on a side "Play with me" John just rolled his eyes and huffed.

He was about to go back to the flat when something popped in his mind.

- There's a bomb in the other box, right? It's not safe, leaving it there.

He turned and carefully grabbed the box marked with a J walked out, he took a cab. It was night time by now, he ask the cabbie to take him to an old factory John had seen on a random day. Totally abandoned, perfect to leave the danger he had in his hands.

He entered the factory, dust everywhere. Rats, roaches we're the only souls in there. He looked around and let the box there, he started walking outside, but suddenly he stopped. He felt he needed to prove something. He was always a curious person. He turned and stared at the box for quite the while, deciding if what he was about to do was indeed a good idea. It was a small box, how much explosive power could it have?

He looked around. He started pulling everything in his way, boxes, pieces of machinery, etc. Bursting into laughs to the thought of what he was doing. What a fun moment it would have been if Sherlock would have been there with him.

In a matter of minutes he had built a fort strong enough to hold a relatively small explosion. Finally he grabbed a long metal stick and a piece of thread equally as long.

First he tied the thread around the handle; he went behind his fort and grabbed the metal stick, once in his hand he pushed down the handle and hoping that what he was about to do wasn't about to kill him, he pulled the thread and the box opened.

As fast as he pulled the thread he hid, he waited for around five minutes as if at any moment a big light would flash and it would send him straight to hell, but nothing happened.

He peeked above his fort, still in a careful and slow way he walked to the box and looked inside.

- I should have seen it coming.

Nothing, not even a single particle of dust inside that box. More than frustrating John found this to be a bit disappointing.

Letting out a sigh that resonated inside the whole factory he walked outside, taking a deep breath of the night cold air. He went straight to the flat and remembered something that was beginning to bother him. He started checking his phone every 5 seconds.

No texts, no pictures, one more hint he was being watched, no sarcastic comment for what he did in the factory, nothing. He started regretting his little game back there, he trusted a lot in the fact that he felt like Sherlock was going to be alright. What a silly feeling.

He got serious, entered his flat and opened his laptop, plugged the flash drive and waited, and waited.

- For Christ sake…

The laptop had frozen, John left the laptop on the table and sat down in his couch and waited some more, placing his palms in his face, practically falling asleep as the flash drive started to reproduce automatically.

He suddenly opened his eyes and fell out of the couch trying to reach for the laptop. The content of the flash drive was moans, sounds he would never dare dream of. No doubt that was Sherlock moans and sounds.

- Shut up! Shut up! Oh, please don't freeze!

Still in the floor he managed somehow to put pause to the track. The sound of heels running up the stairs echoed all the way to the flat. John got up as fast as he could.

- Sherlock! What in God's name are you doing now?

Mrs. Hudson entered the flat looking for the source of the previous sound. John was trying to think in a logical explanation, or at least in a good one, but nothing seemed logical or good in what just happened.

- Uhm… I'm so sorry… John started stuttering.

- It was nothing. Was the only thing John managed to mumble.

Mrs. Hudson was about to say something but she stopped. John noticed this, but didn't say a thing.

- Well dear, be careful with this whole Sherlock's kidnap thing.

John nodded and Mrs. Hudson went down the stairs looking a bit distracted, John this time closed the door and lowered the volume of his laptop.

His phone rang, he took it quickly from the desk, he was waiting for it.

- Hello.

- Oh my! That was hilarious. Your stutter! Oh! And you with the box in the factory, even Sherlock laugh a bit.

TH started mimicking him and bursting into laugh every two seconds. John was beginning to get annoyed.

- What the hell are you calling for now?

- Oh, nothing I just want it to laugh a bit. Thank you.

That being said TH hung up, leaving John with serious anger management issues. He lay in the couch now sure his laptop had a safe volume; he played the track again, from the beginning.

Once the embarrassing intro of the track passed and left him with a color that would be certainly confused with a tomato. The voice of Sherlock started saying something still gasping a bit.

- John, I need you, please. Call Mycroft ask him to let you in into Buckingham Palace.

John heard the sound of something, someone covering Sherlock's mouth.

- You heard the man, do as he says or next time I'll send a video and not an audio track.


	5. Chapter 5

John, in a still red face and without noticing, breathing heavily. He got up, his knees were shaking; he went to the window and lean his head against it. The window was cold; lowering his body temperature he stayed there for a few minutes, trying to regain control over his body.

Once done with that, he grabbed his phone and dialed Mycroft's number. He waited, but nothing. For the first time Mycroft Holmes didn't answered the phone.

- Just when he's needed, he doesn't answer the damn phone.

John dialed a few more times and sat in Sherlock's couch. His couch was always bigger than his. He placed his knees in front of him and lay all the way back; he fitted perfectly in that couch, his eyes felt heavy, his body was starting to get numb, he could hardly process his own thoughts.

He relaxed and fell totally asleep.

The slight sunlight of the morning woke him up followed by the vibrating mobile phone in his hand.

"Wake up sunshine. You need to eat something. Sherlock says that unlike him you need to eat to be able to think. TH"

John eyes were still half closed; he stretched his whole body, letting out a big yawn. He went into the bathroom and washed his face. Once totally awake he read the text one more time and actually decided to obey it.

He went into the kitchen, opened up the fridge and beside the head that after a few days of startling himself every time he saw it, there was nothing, nothing at all. He grabbed his jacket and headed to the supermarket.

Without engaging in a fight with chip and pin machine, he walked home with some groceries, until a black car started following him, he knew very well who it was, apparently he can't make an appointment or at least a warning.

The car stopped and John entered without bothering in saying something. The dark windows didn't allow him to see where he was being taken until the car finally stopped. Someone opened the door for him, guiding him in. John looked everywhere.

- How fortunate of me.

The sound of footsteps entering the room took John out of his thoughts.

- John, glad to see you again.

- Mycroft, may I ask what am I doing here and why didn't you answered the phone last night.

John's tone was aggressive. Mycroft pointed the couch inviting him to sit down.

- I didn't feel like it, and for what I've heard you're just where you have to be.

Mycroft was sitting in front of John. John frowned to the comment, he was dubious of the amount of information Mycroft could have.

- So you know about…

- I'm well aware of Sherlock status. Mycroft interrupted.

- So why the hell haven't you done something about it!?

- It is not of my concern that my brother let himself be kidnapped by a pervert.

John maintained the frown in his face. He was brought into Buckingham Palace by Mycroft; hours after TH told him to ask Mycroft to let him into Buckingham Palace, a weird coincidence indeed.

- I assume you've come here to steel something.

- That's the problem, I don't know.

- Then, if you'll excuse me. I have other more urgent matters to attend.

Mycroft left the room, letting John all alone, without any guards or anything. John hesitated whether to go or remain there, drinking the tea in front of him.

His thoughts were cleared by the new text from TH.

"I'm glad you've arrived. Would you mind going to the next room? Don't think I forgot about it. I owe you two pictures. TH"

Two pictures appeared on John's mobile. A bit more innocent this time, Sherlock does look beautiful sleeping. John saw this as he walked to the other room; he even hit his leg with a table in the middle of the room. He took his eyes off the pictures and looked at the pair of trousers laying there. They were Sherlock's trousers.

He grabbed them carefully, like they were about to explode or something, obviously nothing like that happened. Instead they only had a small paper hanging that said "Wear me" Of course John didn't obey at this and continued on searching something el se. This couldn't be the only clue TH left him.

Another text arrived. "Obey or else… TH"

John huffed and making sure no one was watching he put them on; they were really big for him. He looked like a child wearing his parent's clothes. Trying to make them fit a bit, he put his hands inside the pockets and felt a piece of paper. He took it out and opened it. A small map, painted with a pen, no more than a few moments ago, John could assure this because the ink haven't totally dried out.

- Where the hell are you?

John took a closer look at the map, and saw it was a map of the palace underneath it had written "Face headed west" A clue? It didn't make any sense. West?

A few more rooms were marked, five to be precise. One was the one he was in, the second nearest was going upstairs. John didn't through himself like child playing a pirate and chasing the treasure. He was in bloody Buckingham Palace; he couldn't act like it was his house.

He peeked in the other rooms, no one to be seen, quietly he went upstairs, checking first if there was someone else. But nothing, he continued, his paranoia was taking over him. He could swear he could feel someone following but nothing. He entered the room that was marked in the map.

This time he found a shirt. Sherlock's shirt, the purple one. The one, he was afraid to admit, loved. This one had a paper saying the same "Wear me" but behind it had something else. "Smithfield executioner is waiting"

- What? John's mind wandered.

What the hell is he trying to do? Without really wanting to do it, John put the shirt on, again the shirt looked huge in him. He was looking cuter and funnier by the minute.

He didn't realized he left his own trousers downstairs, holding his own shirt in his arms he went for his trousers, but unfortunately, by the moment he was going to go downstairs someone was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He couldn't go for them looking like that, they would surely kick him out and he would lose TH game.

John let out a big but quiet sigh and continued his search. Three more rooms left.


	6. Chapter 6

He left his shirt in the room. His trousers were downstairs. Even with his own shirt, he looked like a child. There was no point in trying to maintain his clothes nearby. He continued following the map that certainly looked more like maze he was trying to escape.

He started walking without staring directly to his surroundings, just walking with his eyes attached to the map, his peripheral vision was the only thing avoiding him crashing against the wall and his sense of hearing, avoid him from being more paranoid.

Reach the third room.

- Oh, I know where this is going.

Now a jacket was laying there, waiting for John to wear it. This one had a piece of paper this one had written. "No bother searching for a hospital" John remained puzzled.

- What the hell does that mean?

He sat down in the floor and gathered the three pieces.

"Face headed west"

"Smithfield executioner is waiting"

"No bother searching for a hospital"

A threat? John no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the sense or purpose of those three sentences. A new text arrived.

"You shouldn't stay in one room for a long time. TH"

John looked up and activated every single one of his senses, he heard steps coming closer by the second, he got up as fast as he could grabbing the jacket and running to the next room, looking everywhere for a place to hide.

- No time to hide, keep walking. John whispered to himself.

A picture arrived as well. John looked at it. His heart stopped.

- Are you trying to kill me!?

He screamed, but immediately covered his mouth. Praying no one had heard him. This picture was a bit less innocent. Sherlock looked a bit high, sweating, torso completely uncovered. John's heart was beating at a really fast rate.

He kept on running, when finally he stopped and looked back, he couldn't hear the steps anymore, he fell in his knees, he was really tired and walking with clothes that are twice your size makes it harder.

As he was trying to recover his breath, he noticed.

- I'm wearing Sherlock's clothes.

The thought made his face blush in a bright red. He couldn't control himself, he saw the jacket in his hands, and place it closer to his face. Sherlock's scent was smooth, sweet and wild but quite elegant but also extremely addicting. God! He could smell that scent his whole life without getting tired of it.

Once the wild twirl of emotions stopped and his body was almost completely recovered, he kept on following the map, maintaining the blush, knees half shaking. Since Sherlock's abduction he was behaving in a really girly way. He couldn't believe what he had just done.

He put the jacket on, and continued. A couple more turns and reached the fourth room. What was waiting for him was more than obvious. Sherlock's coat, as if was an everyday routine, John immediately searched for the piece of paper, with yet another meaningless sentence.

"Not even a Saint could save him"

This was starting to sound more as a threat by the minute. He put the coat on, and raise the neck of the coat just like Sherlock, he felt really nice wearing his clothes.

- They must come with confidence included.

All he needed now was the scarf, that pretty blue scarf. He almost felt excited about finding it. The bottom of the coat was lifted by the wind as he walked towards the next room.

As he got closer he didn't even bother looking at the map, he was about to arrive to the fifth and thank god, last room.

He first peeked through the door, no one inside as expected and he saw it. He opened the door pretty fast and close it in the same way, as if he was about to meet a lover. He put the lock on the door. This was a personal meeting. He didn't want someone disturbing him.

He first put the scarf on and then checked the paper.

"Not even the apostle Nathaniel"

He sat down, crossing his legs, with the Sherlock look in his face, the one that figure everything out, but who was he trying to fool? He couldn't figure everything out. He received a small punch back to reality. He really had no idea of what those sentences were trying to say to him or what was the relation to Sherlock.

A new text arrived. John almost felt glad about it; he hoped the text came with some kind of clue.

"You're almost done love, solve the puzzle and meet me there. TH"

The picture arrived almost at the same time. Something change, the picture was of Sherlock aside a man, no doubt TH, they both were somewhere outside, a rooftop maybe, John wasn't sure.

So, the sentences were part of a location. He took a deep breath, place the paper in the table and stare at them, he had to figure that out, as soon as possible.

- Come on John, think!

He concentrated, trying to think like Sherlock; unfortunately the clothes didn't come with that high functioning sociopath brain included. He looked at the papers, reading and reading them again and again. He read the papers as if they were one single sentence.

- Face headed west, Smithfield executioner is waiting, no bother searching for a hospital, not even a saint could save him, not even the apostle Nathaniel. Who the hell is Nathaniel?

John turn serious, an apostle, Nathaniel. Another name for him is Bartholomew.

John's mind was starting to click, all the information flowed in his mind.

- Then there is Smithfield… Bingo!

He grabbed the papers and folded them leaving just one word in every one of them. Place them in the right position, the outcome made him smile. "Bartholomew Hospital West Smithfield"

John got up and started walking to the exit, ignoring all the guards, all the people around him just repeating to himself.

- St. Bartholomew's hospital!


	7. Chapter 7

Was this how Sherlock felt? Whenever he solved a puzzle or a case? If that was the case, it was something he could certainly get use to.

Aside from the fact that he was running at an alarming speed, none of the guards or people passing by attempted to stop him, they saw him, but hardly someone actually looked at him.

The car that drove him into Buckingham Palace was still waiting; John saw the door open and entered without second thoughts.

- To St. Bartholomew's hospital, fast!

The car started moving and just a few minutes that to John felt like hours passed until he arrived to his destination. He got out of the car and looked everywhere, but up. His gaze finally reached the top of the building and he saw him.

His heart stopped for a moment and started beating really fast. He was worried, happy, he didn't really know. Sherlock was sitting in the edge of the building with apparently nothing but his blue rope, and as if they both felt each other, their eyes met.

Time stopped for a moment for both of them, no one else was there. John could see a small grin appear on Sherlock's face. This moment was interrupted by a hand appearing behind Sherlock and pulling him back. John reacted and started running towards the rooftop.

He reached the door and opened it. As the door opened John was allowed to see Sherlock, he started moving towards him.

- How nice of you to join us John.

The door was slammed by the voice talking to him, a voice he heard for the last couple of days a voice he started hating for the last couple of days. He suddenly turned, no doubt that was the person who was beside Sherlock in the last picture.

- I've played along, now let Sherlock go.

John said in rough menacing voice, sliding his hand behind his back pulling a gun and pointing it to TH.

- Oh! A gun, how nice, the thing is love; I'm not holding Sherlock back, am I?

"No" John slightly mumble, as he turn towards Sherlock, thing he could not complete. Due to the fact that as he turned an arm came across his neck and held him.

- Those clothes look perfect on you.

Sherlock whispered in John's ear, making John tremble against him, letting the gun fall onto the floor.

- What the hell is going on Sherlock!?

John struggle but Sherlock's grip didn't allowed him to do much, he looked at TH hoping to get an answer, but TH just looked amused by the show playing in front of him. Finally Sherlock let him go by rotating him like a ballerina, making him crash against TH.

John closed his eyes at the hit. Once he opened them, he got as far away from TH as possible and looked at Sherlock.

- Sherlock, for god's sake, tell me, what the bloody hell is going on?

- Oh John! You should have noticed by now.

John stood completely still; processing every experience he's been through since Sherlock was supposedly kidnapped.

Mycroft acted in a very suspicious way, how did he know about Sherlock's kidnap? He had his ways, but he said "It's not of my concern that my brother let himself be kidnapped by a pervert" like he knew who it was. Oh! And Mrs. Hudson slip, when he was at home, could've been a simple mistake, but she said "Sherlock! What in God's name are you doing now?" as if he was still there.

A traumatic experience is not that easy to just forget. Sherlock looked at John seeing how everything started to make sense inside is head. He smiled at this and walked where John was standing, really close to the edge.

He grabbed him by the arm trying to pull him away from the edge to be received by the knuckles of John, a punch straight to the face. Sherlock hit the ground; he didn't even had the time to react when John throw himself at him.

- Remember when I said I've had bad days. This is one of them!

John was on top of Sherlock trying to choke him, Sherlock struggled but John was putting a lot of effort on killing him.

- Terrence, would you mind!?

Sherlock asked the person standing near the door, this one looked confused at first but then he reacted and got close to Sherlock and started pulling John, when John finally let go. Terrence and John fell to the floor grabbing something blue in his hands.

Finally John straighten himself up and looked at Sherlock, what he saw, certainly could've make his heart stop. John gulped and remained in shock for a few seconds.

- Would you mind John, it's cold out here.

John looked at his hands and saw that he had pulled Sherlock rope while being at the time pulled by Terrence. Sherlock only had his underwear. He got up, fast as a lighting, took the coat off and placed it over Sherlock, without even being able to look at him.

- Sorry. Was the only thing he managed to say almost whisper.

Sherlock fix his coat, John remained still and so did Sherlock, but Sherlock was observing him, analyzing what was going through John's mind.

Terrence looked at this from the distance but it didn't take a genius to realize that a personal moment was really near. He got up, cleaned his pants and walked to the exit in a really quiet way. Sherlock and John didn't even notice when he went away.

Sherlock placed his hand on top of John's shoulders, John jumped at the touch.

- John are you alrig…

- Why Sherlock?

John interrupted Sherlock, while staring at some random spot in the floor, Sherlock hesitated to answer. His cheek was aching; he didn't want another hit like that any time soon.

- I may not be here for long John; I need you to be prepared. You did wonderful, you know, for a normal person.

John frowned at the last part and turn to Sherlock, with a glare, but his suddenly change it to a confused face.

- What do you mean by I may not be here for long?

Sherlock tried to fix the words in his mind, a nice way to say them, but before he could articulate anything, John began to talk in a loud tone.

- No, you listen to me! You're not going anywhere. You're staying here with me! Do you understand?

Sherlock was sincerely surprised at John's reaction. For the first time, Sherlock Holmes didn't know what to say.


	8. Final Chapter

- Explain yourself. John said in more serious and quiet tone.

- Can we first go home? Sherlock pointed at his body, he was after all still half naked underneath that coat.

- No!

Sherlock, huffed surrendering, and began to settle himself on the floor to start the explanation. Sherlock was being a bit obedient. John was starting to enjoy this, a grin fought his way to cover his face but he control himself and maintained a cool, serious face. He cleared his throat.

- From the beginning.

Sherlock frowned at this but he also cleared his throat and started explaining.

- I planned this for you, because, I've got the feeling that something is going to happen John, something bad and I wouldn't want you to be dependant of me. That would be a great disadvantage for you. My life is not that valuable, I could go at any moment, but you...

John by now was sitting in front of Sherlock listening to him. Seeing right into his eyes, seeing something he thought Sherlock Holmes, the great consulting detective couldn't even feel. Fear, true raw fear. Fear for who? For what?

Sherlock continued.

- If something were to happen to me, I suppose you would like to continue working with Lestrade. I thought this was…

John got closer to Sherlock placing his hands in his hair, in order to make him stop talking. Succeeding he got even closer and placed a gentle kiss in his forehead, staying there for a few seconds. Sherlock didn't move a muscle.

- It's ok. John almost murmured for himself.

John started to panic for what he just had done and started to lean back, Sherlock stopped him surrounding him with his arms, pulling him back and squeezing him harder and harder. John started coughing and Sherlock let go, allowing John to breath.

- Sorry. Sherlock said trying not to look at John.

An uncomfortable silence was starting to rein the space between them.

- So who is this TH or Terrence?

John got up and tried to make Sherlock talk again.

- Terrence Hamilton, I met him some years ago. As Mycroft called him, a pervert, he used to stalk me. Mycroft kick him out of the country, it was not until a few months ago he was allowed back. I run into him and ask him if he wanted to help. He is after all an actor. I think he did pretty well.

So that's how he knew him. He saw him on the telly with Mrs. Hudson.

- So the kidnapping thing was your idea but everything else was his, right?

- Obviously. You know I hate riddles, and the one he left you was too easy. Just the last part was my idea.

The last part? John looked at himself, seeing the clothes he was wearing.

- So, this was your idea.

John pointed at his clothes, and could almost see a slight blush covering Sherlock's cheeks.

- Yes, it was a mere experiment, I wanted to see how they would suit on you and I must say, they look perfect.

Sherlock said in a firm voice, this time John actually blushed and looked away, but then he remembered.

- What about the… John gulped.

- The flash drive and the track?

Sherlock widened his eyes in surprise, and open his mouth as if he was trying to say something but the words just wouldn't come out. He remained quiet thinking in a rational explanation.

- A payment. Sherlock said in a cutting tone.

- What do you mean by that?

- As I said before John, Terrence is a pervert.

John was a bit pleased with the explanation, but something else came to mind.

- Wait! He didn't... touch you. Right?

- No, Of course not.

Sherlock said in an obvious tone, making sure that what John said was absolutely false. John nodded and turned away. Sherlock stand up and walked towards John.

- You know, I saw everything.

He whispered against John's ear, making him tremble harder than the last time. John reacted by pushing Sherlock away. John didn't know what to say. Was there even something to answer for that? That wasn't even a question! Sherlock kept on looking at John, now with the look he always used when he knew he was right about something, the look saying he was superior than everyone else in the area.

- Your reaction was… unexpected.

And even the tone he was using. John was getting really nervous and his completely red face wasn't really helpful.

- How did you do it?

John managed to say stopping his voice from shivering, trying to change the conversation. Sherlock starting walking around him, observing him from every angle.

- Mycroft put microphones and cameras, pretty much everywhere, months ago. But as far as your behavior before, now that's interesting. Your pupils are dilated, your pulse is elevated and so is your breathing. The slight shiver you get whenever I pass near you.

- And what can you deduce out of that? John said as firmly as possible.

- Love…

Sherlock let the last syllable slide softly out his mouth. John remained quiet, he couldn't move a muscle, he wanted to get angry so that at least he could walk away, but no. He wanted to stay; his heart was distracting him, beating faster and harder. If it just could stop for a moment, he might get his mind cleared.

The thought that started moving inside his head was making him stay. What if Sherlock felt the same? Was he actually feeling that? Not a word was spoken for at least three minutes.

- Sher…

John decided to speak, but was not allowed to by the lips of his companion. A small kiss, placed in a hard way. They looked at each other. A confuse moment. More silence, shorter this time.

- What was that?

- Don't make me explain John.

John nodded; he didn't want to say it either. As if it were a synchronized movement they both started walking towards the door, no more words. Just the call for a taxi and a quiet ride home.

- Oh hello again. I see you've made some progress. I'm so glad!

A now familiar face was waiting in the flat.

- How the hell did you get in here!?

- Terrence, I think it's time you give return the key of the flat to me.

Terrence glared Sherlock, but placed the key in the table. John entered the kitchen looking for some water, he was after running through almost all London all day.

- I just wanted to be polite and say goodbye to the brand new couple.

A loud cough echoed in the kitchen.

- I swear to god Sherlock. Get him out of here or I swear I'll keep my promise. I still have my gun.

- No you don't John, you left in St. Barts, but still Terrence, the exit is through there.

Sherlock pointed at the door and Terrence unwillingly obeyed. Once he took one step out the door, Sherlock slammed it. Next he sat down in his couch which still had some of John's scent. He smiled at this, and totally relaxed.

John brought him some tea.

- I'm sorry John.

- It's alright, just don't do it again. Whatever happens we'll make it through together. Understand?

Sherlock smiled and nodded, drinking his tea.

- Now can you please put your bloody trousers on!?

- Only if you give me the ones you're wearing.

- Forget it, I'm not going to shoot Terrence, I'm going to shoot you!

* * *

_I'm going to take this little space to thank you all._

_So this kinda before The Reichenbach Fall, or at least it ended up being like that. I truly hope everyone liked it._

_This is my first Johnlock fic and my first fic in English. Any failure, please forgive me. I normally write way pass midnight._

_Thank you all for the support. You've given me the trust to write some more. Seriously I love you!_


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